


Cigarettes

by Justagirlwithapen



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cigarettes, F/M, M/M, Mental Illness, Modern AU, OCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justagirlwithapen/pseuds/Justagirlwithapen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander's life following cigarettes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Lams fic, and I apologize in advance if the formatting is weird or anything

At age fourteen, Alexander Hamilton, that kid who quite literally never shut up and had been in more foster homes in the two years since his mother died than he had fingers on his hands, was adopted. The Washington’s were a nice family. They owned a nice hunk of land, and George (or as Alex started calling him, Washingdad) was principal at the high school. He talked politics to young Alexander, and was a great father figure in general. Martha, or Mother/Mother Washington was nice and sweet and baked fresh bread every weekend and made sure the rascally youth had manners.  
Fourteen was also the age he had his first cigarette.  
He took a slow drag with uneasy fingers, coughing and choking on the smoke and taste. He found it unpleasant, but Jefferson was standing there with that smirk beside him at the back of the school, so Alexander took another, and another, until the world blended together. 

At age 15, with a pack barely touched in front of him and the stress of midterms weighing down his back, he discovered that cigarettes could make his mind stop racing. Could make the thoughts stop coming, make him relax, numb the world out. He only smoked them when needed, a couple times a year at first, then a couple times a month. 

16 is when he started smoking a couple a week. 16 is when Martha found out. She had been smelling them on him for a while, but remained willfully ignorant of what he spent his pocket change on. Until she fished out a pack from the pants pocket of his favorite jeans, currently strewn on his floor. She regretted going into his room to collect laundry the moment she saw it sticking out. Regretted it when she placed the box in her husband’s hand with thin lipped sadness. When George confronted the youth who had become her son, and his face paled and his fingers started twitching and his leg fidgeted, and excuses stuttered from his lips.  
He was grounded for a month, much to his friends dismay.

At age 17, cigarettes got him through the year and into a decent college. At 17, Eliza Shuyler wanted a boyfriend her father would disapprove of, and frequently gave Alex alcohol and cigarettes, and Alex complied. They fizzled out shortly, but became good friends. He also became a confidant for Peggy, her younger sister, and debated with Angelica, her older one. 

At 18, he became addicted, and his once a month luxury became a twice a day need.

At 19, a sophomore in college, he met John Laurens, with curls of chocolate and warm brown skin and eyes that he could melt into. They became friends, even though John hated the scent of smoke that always lingered on Alex’s clothes. 

At age 20, Alex realized he was in love with John Laurens. Thing is, John hated cigarettes (he never smoked in the other man’s presence) and Alex could tell he was disgusted by the smoke that permeated everything Alex owned.

At 21, after much needed boosts of encouragement from Hercules and Lafayette, he asked out John Laurens. And despite the smoke and cigarettes, he said yes. Their first date was at a cutesy little cafe, and their first kiss was shortly after. John tasted like cinnamon, and coffee, and sugar. Alex tasted like cigarettes. John liked him, so he didn’t mention how gross it was.

At 22 Alex was smoking a pack a day, and John tried to tell him how bad it was, but the other refused to listen. He insisted that it stopped his jittering hands and focused his mind and helped him ignore distractions. And it was too late to quit easily. His body craved the nicotine, craved the buzz they once provided, the silent calm. 

At 23, a drunk Lafayette told Alex how much John hated his cigarette kisses, and how the smell of the smoke sometimes made him nauseous.  
At 23 Alex questioned how he deserved John.  
At 23 Alex went to the doctor, asked for help, starting nicotine patches, and handed over all his cigarette packs to John. He tossed his clothes that smoke lingered too after numerous washes, had his car and apartment deep cleaned to be rid of the smell, promised to try to stop, apologized, and apologized, and apologized.

At 24 Alex went to Christmas at the Washington’s with his fiancée at his side, and clothes that smelled like cookies and home, instead of cigarettes and loneliness. Martha cried when she hugged him. Washingdad was proud. They both accepted John with open arms.  
At 24, he still wanted to smoke sometimes. When work got stressful or he got a whiff of cigarette smoke. He didn’t though. For his boyfriend, who he proposed to on their anniversary, a couple months before Christmas.

At 25, after prompting from concerned family and friends (and a husband), Alex saw a therapist. He was diagnosed with OCD and anxiety. He was then sent to psychiatrist, who prescribed him some medicine. Alex didn’t want medicine, didn’t want to be what he viewed as a freak with a messed up mind. John helped him. Alex got happier. He learned how not to rely on cigarettes. He learned how to naturally relax his mind.

At 26, and 27, and 28, Alex struggled weekly, like he had in the past, but this time he had his friends and family and his husband. He knew he’d be okay. Eventually he was able to go on a lower dose of medicine, which he was happy about.  
At 28, he realized it was all worth it, as he sat on his couch, John at his side, newly adopted baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands wrapped around John’s finger. Yeah, it was worth it, all of it.


End file.
